


Other towns and cities

by lendmesomesugar



Category: DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, New 52
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lendmesomesugar/pseuds/lendmesomesugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This high up, Amusement Mile is a tangled garden of metal. It looks more Bruce than Dick, now, but even in the sucking darkness Tim can imagine how the twinkling lights will look, the screams of mingled terror and exhilaration, the colour.</p><p>Mild spoilers for Nightwing #10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Other towns and cities

The wind blows differently in Gotham. Cold. Bleak. Rattling through metal staircases that cling to hollowed-out buildings, sweeping Old Gotham with a howl, rousing gooseflesh on bare-legged streetwalkers. The chill bites at Tim’s cheeks, and it’s almost _welcome home_.

This high up, Amusement Mile is a tangled garden of metal. It looks more Bruce than Dick, now, but even in the sucking darkness Tim can imagine how the twinkling lights will look, the screams of mingled terror and exhilaration, the colour.

He’s still contemplating such things when there’s a scuff on the rooftop behind him. Reflexively, he tenses, gauntleted hands clenching into fists, then forces himself to relax. It takes a practised control not to turn his head when Nightwing’s dark shoulder appears next to him, a flash of red. He can practically _feel_ Dick’s glee at finding him, at finding him here.

Tim doesn’t look at him; they’ve played this game before, and Dick is, by nature, garrulous to a fault. Like a flower that can’t resist turning its face to the sun. Tim always was more like Bruce.

“How’d you find out?” asks Dick, finally. The breeze stirs his hair, what Tim can see of it out the corner of his domino, but he doesn’t sound bothered. He sounds, Tim thinks dryly, pleased.

“How did I find out you’re planning on buying an amusement park? A little bird told me.”

Dick laughs shortly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you have an ear to the ground, even from a different city. Despite all those feathers, Timmy, you’re still a bat to the bone.”

Tim lets Dick’s laughter wash over him, not knowing how to reply to that. It’s the truth, of course it is, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less; no matter how long he stays in New York, or who he has there with him, it isn’t _home_ , not like Gotham. Dark, gritty, hopeless Gotham.

“Why the long face, little bro?”

It’s easier to let it slip away, simpler to just tug his lips into a smile and say, “For some reason, I don’t think you’ll be taking Damian for the first ride on that rollercoaster.”

They’ve migrated close enough that Tim can hear the huffed laugh, almost feel the buzzing warmth of Dick’s skin through both of their costumes. He knows that Dick gets along with Damian—as much as anyone can, that is—but in some ways, in the ways that count, Damian is no more a boy than Alfred is. He wouldn’t be caught dead on a rollercoaster; even Tim would bet money on that.

And luckily, Tim isn’t afraid of heights.

“I’ve got a plan,” Dicks says, quietly. “Old Gotham needs something.”

“You think you can fix it?”

“No, not fix it. But maybe – brighten it, just enough.”

That’s Dick, really: trying to see the best in everything, trying to make the best of everything. He’d been brought up in a circus, then lived a second childhood in yellow and green and red. Tim can’t even imagine what it must have been like for him, young and earnest, trying to flourish in Wayne Manor, with Bruce.

It seems a miracle that he has turned out the way he has.

Tim turns his face to Dick’s. Close enough to see the flush the cold weather has wrought on his cheeks, to see each individual eyelash framing his blue eyes. Tim can feel the weight of Dick’s gauntleted hand on his thigh; such restraint from a man who thrives on human touch, on hugs. A boy who’d desperately needed them.

It doesn’t take a heartbeat for Tim to lean into him. His eyelids flutter closed, and it’s a test of trust—like flying through Gotham and knowing the line is sure, that there’s someone up there with you—to wait with his lips parted, breathing softly, heart stuttering, until Dick catches his mouth with his own.

Dick kisses with every part of him. There’s nothing Tim can do but try and keep up, hold on and be swept along. He melts under the insistent shift of Dick’s hands, his mouth. There’s cold kevlar under his hand and a broad chest pressed against his own.

His eyes closed, Tim can feel the surge of the rollercoaster free-falling beneath him, sees the Ferris wheel lights blinking blue and red; the wind is cold at his back, numbing him, but Dick’s warmth is sinking into him with each and every kiss. He tilts his head back and they bump noses before his hand finds its way to Dick’s hair and he lets himself let go.

The coloured lights are still twinkling when he opens his eyes. Dick is backlit by the moon, and he’s smiling, his fingers still latched onto Tim’s wrist.

Tim’s chest hurts, for Dick, for this place, and there’s nothing to do but rest his head against Dick’s shoulder and lift his face up for his kiss. Below, the city is dark and grey, Amusement Mile a snarl of metal and maybes. And Tim can see the lights. “It’ll be enough,” he says.

 

\---

 

_Do you like the view I show you?_

_Oh, I say look at the light._

_Do you still miss the way that I hold you?_

_In other towns and cities who’s holding you tonight?_

Other towns and cities – Camera Obscura


End file.
